Laced with Spikes
by BrambleclawIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: A kidnapping of one of their own. They have no leads, hundreds of suspects, and a matter of days before death is the result. Who wins in a game with no pieces to play with?
1. Missing

A flash of headlights and a flare of red area all he sees as he goes down. He hears a door slam. Two voices. And then he sees the blood pouring over the pavement. His blood.

A shoe comes next to face and a hand grabs his shirt. Then it all goes black.

* * *

"And there are still no leads in the kidnapping case of Dr. Cal Lightman, although his involvement with the FBI has been suspected to have contributed with his kidnapping. Dr. Lightman's agency, The Lightman Group, is currently shut down all operations that do not involve the location of Dr. Lightman. If you have any information regarding the case please call_" The news reporter's voice died as Gillian slammed on the button form the remote, cutting the phone number off before it even gets started.

"Get the Head of the Department in here; I need to talk with him, Reynolds." Gillian turned away from the fading TV screen. "Torres, get all the violent case files out of the cabinet, and get started. Don't waste time on ones you know it isn't."

Flashing a glance at Torres, who didn't bother to return it after seeing the expression on Foster's face, Reynolds turned and left, heading down to the front hallway of The Lightman Group building, pulling out his radio and cell phone on the way there.

"Do the police have any suspicion as to who it might be?" Torres asked Foster, speaking carefully.

"No. As you can tell, they think it has to do with our work here; I agree." Foster let out a breath and pushed her hands to her face, "That's the only idea we've got. Just go. And don't waste times on the ones in jail!"

Torres left, knowing that even if-when they got Lightman back, she would remember that expression on Gillian's face forever. The unfiltered expression she couldn't even begin to hide.

Agony.

Cal Lightman was in a car. That much he knew. Aside from that, he knew nothing. He couldn't see, or breathe through his mouth which was tied with a gag that tasted like dirt and beer. Actually, he did know one thing. He had been hit by the same car he was riding in. He had been kidnapped. At least two of his ribs were fractured, he could feel them starting to convulse in pain as he regained slight consciousness. His head throbbed with his abdomen, making the backseat of this vehicle the one place he really didn't want to be.

He tried to remember what had happened, what was happening. Anything that might be remotely helpful in his situation, but his mind could come up with nothing but a shoe, and blood. Lots of blood. He listened, his ears being one of the only two senses that were any use to him now, but all he heard was the smooth hum of the car driving over the road.

Then he felt something. Something wet was dried to his chest. He inhaled carefully, making sure not to give away that he was awake, and could smell the salty tang of blood that seemed to be all over his chest.

* * *

Emily Lightman pulled out her cell phones and opened her Facebook page. She had it rigged to get automatic message updates on anything regarding the case. There was one new message in her inbox.

"A new break has been made in the Lightman Kidnapping case: Dr. Cal Lightman's cell phone was recovered on 7th avenue near a huge stain that the local investigators have identified as Dr. Lightman's blood. The cell phone looked smashed, and is being currently examined for fingerprints that may give police any leads." The message was exactly 37 seconds old, and Emily knew from being around here enough that fingerprint matching, if there were any to match, could take hours.

She sighed in frustration and flopped none-to-gracefully into the only chair in her dad's office. She spun around about four times, watching the world blur, until she felt her phone buzz, and "Just a Dream" play, telling her she had a text message.

She flipped it open. It was her friend Shelby, sending her a message that said they had all started up a prayer tree, and that everyone in their class, and pretty much everyone in the D.C. area was hoping her dad made it home. She appreciated it, but couldn't force herself to reply. Instead she watched Loker and Torres come by the room, yelling at each other. They stopped, not noticing her and they yelled about something that Emily couldn't quite hear through the glass, but it had something to do with the file in Ria's hand, because Loker kept trying to grab it out of her hand.

She just stared at them, not knowing what to feel, and she only caught bits of what they were saying. "Lightman!" "Foster!" And "Rights!" were about all she could hear, and both of them were using them a lot. She knew that they were just upset because of what was going on, but they were driving her insane.

Running up from the chair, she swung the door in, just catching the end of Torres' sentence before they saw her. "He could be dead, Loker!"

Emily had never wanted to hit someone more than in that moment.


	2. Familiar

**(A/N) Im so happy people like this! Dont own lie to me, or Lightman, although I have a birthday this year! :) Enjoy**

"I'm sorry, Dr. Foster, we can't issue 87 warrants without more evidence. We have to wait on the results of the fingerprinting." The head of the FBI department involved in the case, Marcus Clark, stood stoned faced, his face giving away almost nothing.

"What if the tests come back with nothing but Cal's fingerprints?" Her voice was cracking, but she held his gaze until he was the one who broke the eye contact.

"Then we start questioning people. But we can't do a mass arrest on 86 innocent people." He ducked his eyes before looking back up. "We're doing everything we can."

"Ria Torres gave you the case file with the most logical suspect. Why can't you just question him instead of all of us just sitting here?" She sat down, and folded her arms on the hardwood of the desk, waiting on the answer she knew she didn't want to hear.

"Dr. Foster, this organization has worked with the Bureau long enough to know that we can't arrest a man who could be innocent based on a hunch of a person with a definite emotional attachment to the person missing." Clark moved to leave the room, knowing he had to leave; something about this conversation was making him uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that her accusations had a core of truth to them, or maybe it was the fact that she knew that he could overpower protocol if the situation was dire enough.

"It's not exactly a random assumption, Mr. Clark! The man is a convicted serial killer. He kidnapped and killed five people before the police finally caught up with him, for a crime that wouldn't have gotten him sent to jail." Foster watched him swing open the door. "Lightman is the only reason he ended up in jail in the first place; I think it's more than worth looking into."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Foster, we'll keep you updated." And with that, he slid the glass door shut and strode towards the front hallway.

* * *

**Name:** Andrew Wayne Hutchinson  
**DOB:** 1/14/1977  
**Gender**: Male  
**Race:** White/Caucasian  
**Charge**: 5 counts of kidnapping, 5 counts of first-degree murder  
**Conviction**: Guilty; 10 life sentences, parole in 2032  
**Status:** Escaped from Maryland State Penitentiary, 2 weeks to date

Loker looked at the file, huge headphones covering his ears as Torres watched the only video footage they had on this guy. His police interrogation interview from when the police had found him for lying on his tax return forms. After finding suspicious items, including a gun, two containers of cocaine, and horrific pictures in his car, they had brought him in.

15 minutes in and the police had nothing, the man had said nothing and they were getting no were and would have to let him go. Then they called in Lightman. In less than ten minutes, he had managed to pull enough information to lead the police to five bodies, the murder weapon, and to a statement that legally qualified as a confession for the grand jury.

Hutchinson wasn't even trying to hide his emotions, and as Torres watched three basic ones flashed over his face. Hate, anger, and irritation kept changing places the more Lightman spoke and the more information he pulled out of the man. But those were what she expected to see, and even when she slowed down the video and zoomed in on the man's face, she couldn't see anything else. No hidden thoughts, no random spitfire emotions, just the same three over and over, leaving them at a dead end, not knowing if it was him or not, and no closer to figuring out who it actually was.

* * *

The car stopped suddenly. Lightman was halfway conscious, his earlier awareness had been almost completely wiped out as the pain in his head continued to grow and his chest had started to bleed again, oozing out blood on his chest form a cut he could almost place right below his collar bone, but then again, he could be playing tricks on himself.

Both doors in the front seat of the car opened and closed at the same time, one of them was only a little away from Cal's ears, so he guessed they had thrown him in the backseat rather than in the trunk, where he thought he had been. The door behind his head opened, a rush of cold air hit him, feeling like it was freezing the blood that was all over his chest and button-up shirt.

He felt a hand grab his shoulder. "Is he awake, Daniel?" One voice said, sounding like gravel in a wood-chipper, but deep like thunder.

"I don't know. Let's just pull him out, were not taking the blindfold off him." A second voice spoke up and he was pulled out of the car by the guy with the same voice. He knew that voice. But he couldn't think. His brain screamed every time they jerked him up the driveway, and even if he did know who it was, what good did it do him now?


	3. Footage

**(A/N) I was so happy with all the reviews. I hope you all like this chapter. Don't own Lie to me* Enjoy and please review!**

Emily paced the hallway of The Lightman Group building, something she had never done, and something that made her look a hell of a lot like her father. She was ignoring the men in the lobby as well as Loker and Torres who were in the room to her right. After she had walked in on their argument in the hallway, she wasn't in the mood to talk to either of them, especially when she found out it was just over a stupid case file that Ria knew would do them no good, and Loker said her had a right to look at it for clues. One look from her shut them both up, and Loker got to look at the file; he also decided it was useless.

No updates came to her Facebook inbox, but she had gotten probably thirty more texts saying that her dad was on the prayer tree. She didn't answer to any of them, although she appreciated them, she was sure the friends would understand. Finding no peace in pacing, she went to find Gillian.

* * *

"Anything on Hutchinson?" Torres stood over Loker, looking down at the pages that were spread in front of him on the desk.

"Just the guys incredibly long track record. In addition to kidnapping, the guys had like 7 felony counts of trafficking cocaine, 4 of public intoxication, 2 DUI's, and three counts of carrying concealed deadly weapons without a license." Loker handed Torres one of the sheets. "This has got the numbers of the cops who arrested him; you can try talking to them. The more I look at this, the more I think this is our guy."

"What if it's not?" Torres looked down at Loker, who stopped moving and swiveled his curly head around to look at her.

"Then we find the guy who it is." Loker stood up, and pulled her into a hug, knowing she needed it. "Well find him."

* * *

Lightman could tell that his captors hadn't turned the heat on. Either that or he was in a basement, because the cold bite of January air was all around him. Thank god he had worn his blazer yesterday like Emily suggested, without it, he would be frozen. Even though he had finally stopped bleeding, his chest was still probably thirty degrees colder than the rest of him, which he didn't really appreciate.

To top it off, he was chained to a wall, or a couch, he couldn't really tell without his eyes. The chain laid across his stomach, pushing uncomfortably into his abdomen and putting a lot of pressure onto his already abused ribs. He was thankful he could prop his head against the wall though, it didn't hurt as bad when he did; he wasn't a doctor, but he was pretty sure he had a serious concussion.

He heard feet and voices in front of him, he heard machinery of some sort, but couldn't tell what they were doing. Alright, the first thing he was doing when he got out of here was giving money to that school for blind people up the road form his building, they had it a lot harder than he thought.

"Shit, Daniel! You can't even hook up a damn camera correctly!"

Camera?

* * *

2 Days Later!

* * *

Reynolds came in with a huge manila folder that the mail-truck had just dropped off. No return address, and a printed label that would leave no fingerprints; the folder held only one thing. A DVD.

Foster, Torres, Loker, Emily, and the FBI agents all stood in a circle and watched as Cal Lightman appeared on screen. His eyes were covered with a black rag that looked like it had been knotted in a haphazard rush, and his mouth was gagged with a nasty looking red bandana. None of them could tell if he was awake or not, but by the way he had his head leaned back, they guessed not.

Foster could see why. Barely noticeable except for right past his hairline on the left side of his face was a dark purple bruise, probably the result of getting hit in the head by something, he could have a concussion or brain trauma. Or it could be just a bruise. They couldn't tell form here.

But most noticeable was the blood that completely stained the front of his shirt. There were several tears in the fabric that made it look like someone had taken a paper shredder to it, and Gillian could see where blood had been seeping out of them, but now was stopped. For that she was grateful, but he looked awful.

"See?" A voice came from the video tape, causing a collective jump from everyone in the room. "He's alive. Figure out what's he's worth that way." The video cut, the voice stopped, nobody in the office dared to move.

"Get Clark back here, we now have a video." Foster took charge of the situation, forcing herself to ignore the image of Cal that still burned a spot in her mind. "Loker, Torres, get started on the video. Work on the voice, and figure out who it is for sure. We need a name."

"Emily, go to your dad's office."


	4. Print

**(A/N) This is a bit dark, just saying; hope it was worth the two day wait ;) Our internet was down. I'm so happy to see all the interest in this, keep the reviews coming, I love reading them! **

"Do you know why you're here, Dr. Lightman?" The man who had pulled Cal out of the car spoke for the first time since Lightman knew they had filmed him earlier. His voice was tight, it would've sounded like he was in pain to anyone else, but Lightman knew he was mad. His voice was laced with anger, so much that it almost made Lightman flinch.

He didn't answer, even though they had removed his bandana, which his mouth, and taste buds was eternally grateful for. The man let out a sigh, which kind of sounded like a meat grinder, and Lightman heard him sit down across from him.

"Do you know who I am, Dr. Lightman?" In the back of his brain, something in Cal's mind clicked, he saw a face; he saw the entire case file, but no name. That was the only thing missing. He could hear the man's yelled threat as they pulled him out of the jail after Cal's testimony, and he could remember smiling at Gillian and going to get some lunch because the threat was hollow, the man had more than five life sentences, there was no way he could ever get out of jail to do any real harm. Escape hadn't been a part of this plan. But what was his damn name?

"I'll take you impending silence as a no." The man let out a dry laugh, one that lacked life, and that's when the name finally came to Lightman. He had made that same laugh twice during Lightman's interview, once when he first came in, and a second time when they finally convicted him. Andrew Hutchinson, the kidnapper-killer, unfortunately, he now had Cal. "Well, I'm-"

"Andrew Hutchinson." With each syllable, Cal's ribs screamed with protest and his temples throbbed. But he kept his face still, only the upper corner of his lips twitching in pain.

"Yes." A drop in Hutchinson's tone told Lightman that he had ruined his big climactic moment. "Daniel, get the camera in here, we need to send another tape, they're going to be expecting one."

* * *

2 Days Later

* * *

Gillian was staring at the fingerprint file that one of the FBI men had just dropped off. The only fingerprints found were Cal's, but it had what looked like a skid mark on the back of the battery cover. The whole thing was scrunched in, and the black markings could have just been from its contact with the asphalt, so that really meant nothing, but Clark wanted to investigate it anyway.

Gillian didn't expect them to find anything on the phone, that's why she had made a copy of the videotape and given it to Loker to analyze the voice against Hutchinson's. Ria was monitoring the test; so instead, Gillian decided to go see Emily. The teenager was sitting in Cal's chair, spinning in pointless circles, reading something off of her iPhone screen that had her biting her lip.

Gillian swung the door open, knowing Emily didn't see her, mostly because as soon as she was two feet inside the door Emily swung her foot and floored the desk, knocking the random paperweight off the corner of the desk with a bang. Emily stopped the chair with her feet and looked at Gillian, finally noticing she was there.

"I read about the fingerprints, Gillian, you don't have to tell me." Emily just sat and looked at Foster, who was yet to move since the launch of the paperweight.

"I know. I came to talk to you Emily, I know this is hard." Gillian moved to sit in one of the two chairs in front of Cal's desk. "I want you to know you can talk to me if you need to."

"Thanks, Gillian." Emily closed her eyes, and stood out of the chair, "But it's my dad I need to talk to, not you."

* * *

Torres watched the vocal pitches match perfectly on the screen. It was Hutchinson, but how much time had they already wasted figuring that out? Loker stood, his curls bouncing as stood and got the DVD out of the player. "You want to tell Clark, or should I?"

Loker flashed his "Loker smile" and went out the door, leaving Torres to follow him out, or not. She went out, but not to follow him, she needed to breathe outside a minute, and she was going to check the mail. The Lightman Group parking lot was stuffed with squad cars, which weren't unusual here, but there were never this many at once; it was unnerving.

And appreciated. If they had more police, then they were probably more likely to find Lightman, at least, hopefully that was the case. Ria flipped open the mailbox, and her muscles stiffened, inside was another manila folder, identical to the last one. She ran inside, as fast as her high heels would let her.

* * *

In a repeat from the scene only a couple of days before, the entire company of the Lightman Group building had gathered in the small room with the viewing screen and DVD player. But they hadn't started it yet, because in addition to the video, the file also had a letter. It was typed, with no fingerprints to even be hoped for. It read:

_It's my guess that you've figured out who has Lightman; you all are a lot of things,_

_But stupid isn't one of them. At the bottom of the letter is something I've sure you've _

_already noticed. Be happy it's not worse. Watch the tape, and follow my _

_instructions. I don't like having Lightman here as a guest, so it would be best if you_

_could work this out quickly. I'm not putting up with him forever._

_~A.H.~_

At the bottom of the page was a splash of color, bright red, and it looked like someone had smeared it all over the paper. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was, and nobody could stop looking at. That is, until Gillian shoved it back inside the manila folder and handed it to Clark.

"You'll need that for evidence," She said quickly, biting back the emotions that tangled in her throat, "Loker play the tape."

_Cal still sat with his back against the wall, but he looked a hundred times worse than he did earlier. His face muscles were clenched tight, the tips of his teeth showing in an almost snarl. All over his torso was what looked like a huge red web, pouring blood all over his formerly white shirt and black blazer that looked shiny where it was wet._

_"Say hello, Dr. Lightman, hopefully I sent this to the right address." Hutchinson's laugh came up for a minute, dry and dark. "Your team's watching this, and they can't do anything about it."_

_Cal said nothing; his face remained clenched, not giving anything but his physical pain away. "Alright listen, I know the FBI is watching this. How could they not be? I have the head of about the only useful department in the operation, and technically he's not even a member." That laugh again, like a horror movie._

_"So listen, if you want him back, which I assume you do, then I want my freedom. I want immunity and I want to go home." Hutchinson's voice stopped for a minute, "That's what it is if you want him back. And remember, by the tie you see this, he's probably had two more days here." One last laugh._

_"If you want to talk to me, check his cell phone, my number's listed."_


	5. Witness

**(A/N) Sorry for the wait, I was out of town for the weekend, but here it is. Everyone seemed to want an Emily/Foster moment, so I tried, I was planning on doing one last chapter but I couldn't get it to work right. I hope this is better. Thanks for reviews! I love them! **

Silence can be deafening. Like now. The entire room was frozen, no one moved, no one spoke, and no one breathed loud enough to hear; and the silence pounded on everyone's ears. Loker was actually the first to break the silence, moving only to remove the DVD out of the player, pulling Lightman's face off the screen where it had been frozen at the ending. Two of the FBI men followed suit and headed out the doors, presumably to go get the phone.

The rest of the room started moving like the dam of shock had finally been broken, and they were free to do what they needed. Marcus Clark took off down the hall after the two agents who had already left, pulling out his radio at the same time, talking incoherently into it as he rushed down the hall. The other agents cleared out, going who knows where.

Only the main members of the Lightman Group and Emily remained in the room. Torres grabbed Loker's arm and nodded her head towards the door. He put the DVD onto one of his fingers, and followed her out, headed towards the computer room. "We're going to start researching this guy." Loker spoke as the door swung shut behind them, leaving Gillian and Emily alone.

* * *

Cal's breath hitched in his throat. He was fading in and out of consciousness; he was losing blood and shaky. But at least he was alive. There had been a period where he wasn't sure earlier, he had felt so awful, and the world had come in flashes of pain, but now he was just numb. He couldn't feel anything, other than the fact that he was really hungry. He hadn't been given any food for about 10 hours, and that was some nasty kind of sandwich that he could even begin to guess the contents of.

He knew they had filmed 2 more videos of him, but he had no idea how long he had been here, or what they were even planning to do with those videos. He knew Gillian, Torres, Loker, and Em were watching them, but he couldn't speak in them, or move for that matter; he was more focused on not screaming and trying to stay alive.

Not exactly the easiest thing to do in this situation.

* * *

Gillian turned around to look at Emily, who was staring at the now blank screen, scared and blinking fast, fighting back fear and tears.

"We're going find him Emily." Gillian took one step forward and put her hand on Emily's shoulder, her own words sounding hollow and fake. "We know who has him, and it's only a matter of time until we find where they are."

"He's still there, Gillian." Emily spoke softly. "This could have been a week ago! He could be dead."

"He's not dead Emily. Me, and Loker, and Torres and Reynolds are going to find him." Gillian's words tangles in her throat, "We will."

"When?" Emily finally looked up at Foster, locking eyes with her as she bit her lip. "How much longer does he have to stay with these people before you find him? What else are they going to do to him before you finally get there?"

"Emily-," Gillian couldn't think of any words though, and she just stood in still, looking at Emily. "I'm sorry this happened to your dad."

Emily closed her eyes and leaned away from Foster, "Thanks, Gillian. So am I."

* * *

"What are we even looking for?" Loker ran his hands down his face and slammed them on the desk. "This guy could be anywhere!"

Torres ignored him and went back to Hutchinson's case file, this time looking only for setting. After she and Loker had exited the room, they had been researching places where the man might be hiding. The only thing Torres had managed to find was where the bodies had been buried, and the police had already fully searched the entire neighborhood.

Loker hadn't done any better. He was working form a different angle; instead he was aiming to find witnesses that might have seen what happened on 5th Street where Lightman's phone and blood had been found. Only two people claimed to have seen something, three had heard the car. A black Oldsmobile, headed to the interstate heading south.

He had drawn up a map, but it was clear after the first few miles that this wasn't getting them any closer to finding Lightman or Hutchinson. There were so many exits and turnoffs that the information was as useless as it was vague. No license plate number and no sighting since Lightman's original capture led them to nothing.

"This is not getting us anywhere." Loker stood up, stepping around his chair and taking the file under his arm. "I'm gonna' make a call and talk to Foster."

* * *

Reynolds watched Loker jog down the hallway, cell phone in one hand, and an open file in the other. He followed, deciding that whatever Loker was doing it had to be important. He was talking to Foster and Torres. Emily was sitting in a chair, watching the conversation.

Reynolds opened one of the glass doors that the building was famous for and caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Torres had an eight o'clock interview tomorrow with the only witness that actual saw our man, and apparently his friend."


	6. Evidence

**(A/N) This is way overdue, and I'm sorry about that, it's just this is the first time I've even looked at a computer since I last updated. I sat up till 3 last night writing this, but I'm just now getting to publish it. Hope it's worth it, please read and review, I love reading them. **

"Hi, Margaret, I'm Gillian Foster, and this is Ria Torres." Gillian sat in the seat opposite of the witness that Loker had called in. She was a middle aged woman, older than Foster herself, with thick, wavy gray hair and a tense expression settled on her face. Both Foster and Torres could tell that she didn't want to be here, but since she had bothered coming in the first place, she would more than likely help as much as she could.

"So, Mrs. Langdon, can you tell us what you saw that was out of the ordinary last Thursday?" Torres spoke now, giving the woman a small reassuring smile, and watching her face.

"I was at home with my husband Robert." She shook her head, her eyes stretching as she let out a deep breath. "I was watching the weather out the window, and Robert was standing next to me, on the phone with his friend Daniel."

"Is that when you saw Dr. Lightman?" Gillian spoke now, seeing that the woman was becoming more and more frazzled as the story got deeper, but it was all true, there were no signs of deception.

"Yes. I saw a man walking up the road. He looked like he was in a hurry, and was rather short. He walked right by the house window where me and Robert were standing," Her voice changed, dropping and then spiking in rapid succession; uneasiness. "And I recognized his face from the book signing Robert had been too. That's when I knew it was Dr. Lightman; his face matched the picture on the book."

Foster and Torres exchanged a look, the change hadn't gone unnoticed by either of them, but it didn't make any sense yet, so they let her continue.

"He was on a cell phone, and he looked like he was shouting, but I couldn't hear him through our windows. Robert hung up the phone and tried to get me away from the window." There was that change again, that subtle hint of emotion that meant the truth was hiding, or at least part of it was. "I went with him, but I kept watching outside."

"What did your husband say on the phone, Mrs. Langdon?" Gillian asked, deciding quickly that the husband was the definite cause of Margaret's uneasiness. "Why did it upset you?"

A flash of surprise, and then she squinted her eyes in confusion. "I don't see why that's important, Dr. Foster. You don't think Robert had anything to do with Dr. Lightman's kidnapping do you?" She sounded frantic now, and Gillian knew they would lose her if they pushed too hard on the subject.

"No, of course not. But everything is important." Torres took up Foster's cue, consoling the women while still making the issue present. "It's just that in cases like these, every detail is important, no matter how insignificant it seems. You were upset talking about your husband, and we just need to know why."

Mrs. Langdon let out a soft sigh from her wrinkled face. "It's just that Robert doesn't smoke, and he was talking to Daniel about cigarettes, and his health isn't that good, and I know that smoking could be the final straw on his heart."

"Has he ever talked to Daniel about cigarettes before?" Gillian asked, making a note in the file that was splayed out on the desk in front of her.

"Just once, but that was almost two weeks ago. I had almost forgotten about it, until they talked again yesterday." She shook her head, and Torres could see the fear on her face, she was genuinely worried about her husband.

"Alright, Mrs. Langdon, can you tell us what happened next." Foster and Torres exchanged a look and both had decided to move on before they lost their only witness before they had any really helpful information to go on.

"Well, the oven went off, because the stack cake I was making was finished. Robert went to get it, and I stayed in the living room. I was curious, and even though it was getting dark and it was hard to see, I went to the window. I wanted to see if that Dr. Lightman had finished his phone conversation, and had left. Natural need to know, I suppose." Her eyes widened, like even she couldn't believe the next thing she was saying, like the words were really coming from someone else.

"When I looked, I saw two men. Dr. Lightman was on the ground, and I swear I thought he was dead. He was lying so still, and the men were throwing him into their car, it was a white SUV. I didn't know what was going on, but by the time I figured out he was being kidnapped, they were long gone and I didn't look at the license plate." She looked up at Ria and Gillian, tears brimming at her aging eyes, threatening to break free.

"I wish I knew more, but that's all I can tell you." Her breath hitched. "I hope you find him soon."

She stood up, and moved towards the door of the cube. "Thank you, Mrs. Langdon, that was very brave." Foster and Torres hadn't moved from their spots, in fact Torres was just kind of staring forward, not knowing what to think as the pieces of this horrible puzzle refused to fall into place.

* * *

Cal Lightman flinched as the blindfold came off his eyes for the first time in god knows how many days. It wasn't that big of a change in lighting, he just wasn't used to seeing anything at all, so his eyes pulled and contracted even as he squeezed them shut. The sudden onslaught of vision didn't help his already throbbing head, but he tried to force his eyes open so he could finally get a feel for where he was.

Some sort of either basement or shed, more than likely basement based on the long water pipe that stretched along one wall, but it was so small that his outstretched legs almost touched the opposite wall of the room form where he was chained to the wall. The whole room was cold stone, with no window at as far as he could tell.

A dim light-bulb flickered over his head, but he avoided looking at it, and instead looked at his other side. There was a man, fiddling with the door, Lightman's blindfold jutting out of his back pocket. He wasn't Hutchinson; he was taller, and more wiry, with thick black hair. Even from the back, Cal could tell they were completely different people, that; however, didn't help tell him who he was.

Lightman looked at him for a minute more, before a sudden pain in his chest made him cast his eyes down at himself. His shirt was shredded, stained so red with blood that it looked like he had gone swimming in a pool filled with cherry Kool-Aid. His skin that wasn't cut like his shirt was dark with bruises, only his legs remained mostly untouched. Only a large slash across his left shin disfigured them, but Cal knew that that probably wouldn't last much longer; there was only so much they could do to his upper body before they killed him, and judging by everything that had happened, that wasn't there intention.

Yet.


	7. Liar

(A/N) Well, you all are probably pissed that I haven't updated, but I do have a serious explanation. I had been uploading them to my documents, and I thought I had been uploading them to my story, but as it turns out I hadn't been saving them as new chapters, so after about a week with no reviews, I stopped updating. I didn't realize I hadn't added any chapters, so now I've written them and will be adding them over the course of a week instead of just adding them all at once. I'm writing more, so in the meantime enjoy, and I'm sorry, next time I will be more observant.

Loker stood with Lightman's phone in his hand, desperately trying to get it to turn on so she could get the number Hutchinson had promised was in there. Reynolds and Marcus Clark had taken Mrs. Langdon and a squad car to pick up Robert Langdon, Reynolds was there in case they had any kind of resistance since by state law they now had reason to believe he had information viable to the case as a fact witness, and they had a sapient.

Foster and Torres were sitting in The Cube, waiting on their witness. "Do you really think that the husband has anything to do with this?" Torres spoke, breaking the silence for the first time.

"I don't know. There's not a lot of evidence of that, but there is some; however, it's strictly circumstantial." Foster spoke quickly, not really paying any attention to what she was saying. Torres noticed that after everything she said, she contradicted it, showing two things. One was that she wasn't paying attention, and two that she really didn't think that Mr. Langdon had anything to do with the capture of Lightman.

The door to the cube swung open, revealing Reynolds and Clark, as well as a very distressed looking Robert Langdon. Torres hadn't known what she was expecting, but this man definitely wasn't it. After seeing his wife, she expected a small man with graying hair maybe, a grandpa type man. Instead he had black hair that was barely thinning, he was tall as Reynolds, and he had a young looking face, the only thing that betrayed his age were the frown lines stretching across his face.

"I assume you are Dr. Foster? I'm sorry to hear about your partner." His voice was low, with a thick country accent, like he came from the Deep South or at least as far down as Kentucky. "They tell me I need to speak with you."

He sat down in the chair opposite Gillian, the two men flanking him on both sides while Torres leaned on the table. "So, Mr. Langdon, what can you tell us about what happened the night Dr. Lightman went missing?"

"I was at home, talking to my friend Daniel on the phone. My wife was checking the weather because it was supposed to rain that night." He seemed uninterested in their questions, but he also seemed agitated and kept strumming his fingers on the edge of the table.

"Your wife said you were talking about cigarettes, even though you are a non-smoker." Gillian spoke lower, now that she was confronted with the man, she was slightly suspicious.

"Daniel's a smoker, he's running low on cash and I said I'd give him a few bucks to buy a case." He said it easily, like he was tired of the interview already. But he kept glancing sideways and his fingers tightened on the table, falling completely still.

"What's Daniel's last name? Tell us his real name, or we'll hold you in violation of your sapient, Mr. Langdon." Torres spoke now, knowing before he spoke that he would lie.

"Fair enough. It's Keyes, Daniel Keyes, lives on Shadybrook Lane just outside of the Capitol part of the city. He was heading out of town for a few days though." Robert Langdon looked up at Torres, and then across at Foster, seeing if they would object. Neither of them did.

"If Daniel can go out of town, surely he can afford a carton of cigarettes." Gillian said, making a note without even looking at the paper.

"I try not to get involved in Daniel's business, it's a way to avoid trouble." He spoke easily, but his own words made him nervous, that much both of them could tell. "May I leave now; my wife and I are supposed to see a movie this evening?"

"One more question. Have you ever had any kind of contact with Cal Lightman, whether in passing or a direct confrontation?" Gillian asked it, pretending not to be concerned with his answer.

"No. This is the first, other than the news stories you all always seem to be headlining." He stood up to leave.

"Officer Reynolds, please escort Mr. Langdon to the police station for further interrogation, he's lying, and I want to know why. Torres, please continues this down at the station, and call me when you're done." Foster stood up and left in a matter of seconds, as Reynolds snapped the cuffs around a very pissed off Robert Langdon.

Torres followed them out.

* * *

"Wake up, Lightman." Hutchinson's voice broke through the stiff silence like a knife, jerking Cal out of his very light and brief bout of sleep. "You've finally stopped bleeding all over my carpet, I see. Thank you for that."

Malice laced every word the man spoke. "I haven't heard from any of your coworkers, so I'd say that either they can't get the number from the phone, or you're just as useless to them as you're turning out to be to me."

"I'm not useless to you, Andrew." Cal leaned his head back against the wall he was still chained too. "Or to them." He added, so quiet his captor couldn't hear him.

"Do you really think I would have a problem with killing you Lightman?" He spoke softly, like he was almost sad about it, and he stood still. Then his voice hardened back as he moved to riffle through a box "You wouldn't be the first person I've killed, although you already know that. Don't you?"

"I do, unfortunately." Lightman knew what this man was capable of, and he could easily kill him now, but he knew that as long as Hutchinson valued freedom over revenge, he was safe. But that did have a short life, and judging by the hate Andrew showed in his movements, that time-span was already running out.

"All I want is freedom Lightman. I regret killing all those people now, it's ruined my life, but I doubt one more murder charge will affect my sentence at all." He pulled something out of the box; it was small and a shiny black, like a bracelet. "Let me see your arm."

Cal would have laughed, his arms were completely immobile, but Hutchinson just grabbed his arm and snapped it on his wrist. "Try to run, that goes off, and I'll shoot you. I'll send them your body for freedom, although, that probably won't work as good." He smiled and stepped down the end of the hallway, yelling for his partner.

For the first time in years, Cal Lightman prayed for help. From somebody, anybody.

(A/N) Hope you enjoyed it. By the way, Daniel Keyes is the author of "Flowers for Algernon" a very good book, but I thought it would be fun to use that name. I will be sure to be more careful and make sure the chapters are actually uploading this time, so expect more to come Please read and review, even if it's hate mail for the lateness.


	8. Investigation

"Why exactly do you think I was lying, Miss Torres?" Robert Langdon was sitting, handcuffed to a metal chair in the interrogation room of the Washington Police Department. He was trying to hide the fact that he was upset, but it was a futile effort, at least to Torres.

"Because you said that you had never seen Dr. Lightman before, when your wife told us that you had attended his book signing, and Deputy Riskers, who we just sent to your house, confirms that." She sat down across from him, and folded her hands on the table, giving him a very Torres look. "Now, why did you lie about that?"

"If I told you I had seen him, you would have found some way to link me to this kidnapping when I had nothing to do with it." He looked her right in the face, with an "Are you happy now?" look, but his nostrils flared a tiny bit and lips curled a fraction at the very end, showing that he was full of contempt and knew that he was lying even as he spit the words through his teeth.

"I suggest you tell me what you know, Mr. Langdon, based on everything you've said so far, I can charge you with assisted kidnapping, and, if we don't find Dr. Lightman before Hutchinson loses interest, an accessory to murder charge. So here's the deal," She leaned back, daring him to look away from her now, "Tell me all about Daniel, and Hutchinson, and what they've done and you can go. We'll never bring it up again."

His eyes widened at the end, and Torres knew why. Under normal circumstance, she would never offer this deal to anyone, but they were running out of options, and time; she was desperate.

"Daniel and Andrew both kidnapped him in Andrew's van; there in northern Maryland, maybe two hours form here. As for the rest of it, I can't tell you anything." He spoke quickly, like he was trying to see if he could say it so quick that she wouldn't hear him.

"Can I go know?" He asked, tugging at his handcuffs that still held him to the chair as Torres wrote down everything he had just said, word for word.

"Reynolds, let him out, but slap a bracelet on him, we don't want him going anywhere, he's still our only connection.

She ran out of the office at full speed, climbing in the car, and calling Loker as she headed into full traffic.

* * *

Loker's phone was ringing, but he didn't bother to answer it, he was too busy studying a map on the computer. After two minutes of his highly obnoxious metal ringtone, Emily answered it for him.

"Hey!" He swiveled around, and took the phone from her. "It's Loker."

"Tell Foster that Lightman is with two men, about two hours from the city. I'm on my way there, but I'm stuck behind a school bus." Torres' frantic voice came over the phone, buzzing and cracking every time the car moved at all.

"Foster's over at Shadybrook, but I'll try to call her. Bye." He hung up and scrolled down to find Foster in his contacts, calling her in less than two seconds after Ria's call.

"What's going on?" Emily spoke, standing beside Loker, setting her book on the table.

"We found out that your dad's in Maryland, and I need to tell Foster, but she won't answer the damn phone!" He slammed it on the table as Gillian's voice mail picked up giving him instructions on how to leave a message and a call back number.

"How do you know that?" Emily asked, sounding excited for the first time in over a week.

"Robert Langdon gave a location; we just have to figure out where exactly it is." Loker sat back in his chair, clicking on the map again, zooming in on the roads that led to the interstate connection with Maryland from the subdivision where Lightman had been kidnapped. He set a timer, and a miniature car showed up on the screen, the seconds ticking by as he navigated it around the highways. "Want to help?"

* * *

Gillian Foster has seen a lot of terrible places, but this looked like a straight page out of Hell. The address was registered the phone book, so his address hadn't been too hard to find, but she definitely wasn't expecting what they found at 1313 Shadybrook Lane.

It looked like no one had lived there for months, or it would have, had it not been for all the cigarette butts and half-drunk bear cans that were strewn over the house and yard. On the inside, hardly any surface except for a couch that had an afghan stretched haphazardly over it, and the rest was covered in wrappers, cans, and pieces of paper. They were covered in thousands of codes, both handwritten and typed directions, and pictures of what Gillian knew were Hutchinson's trial. They were pretty normal, news released edition, except for one that was so unnerving it gave her Goosebumps.

It was her and Cal, leaving the courthouse, talking together as he slipped on his sunglasses before they went to lunch. She was smiling and he was doing that little half-smile that he always did when he was telling some story about something he liked. She folded the picture in half and slipped it into her pocket before the investigator who had come with her saw it.

"If I had to comment on suspicious behavior, this would be the first place I would think of, Ms. Foster." The investigator spoke in a low voice, gathering up the directions and one set of codes in his arms. "We'll send a team in just as soon as we get back to the office." He headed out the door, and she followed, the picture feeling like both a painful crushing wait and the only surviving link she had to her best friend.


	9. Location

Loker was nitpicking through the obviously coded directions Foster had brought from her trip to Daniel Keyes house. From what he had already deciphered, Robert Langdon's location for Maryland had been confirmed, but it could be at least another hour before the more intricate parts of the address came through. He had to run every word through the FBI database for all known "secret" codes, but the paper was written in many different versions, and each line took a little longer than the one before.

Btu he was also getting ready to leave. He was leaving the FBI code-breaker, Jackson fisher, in charge of monitoring the codes as they processed on the computer and he was to feed them to him, Foster, Torres, Clark, Reynolds and six cars worth of state troopers all of whom were leaving for Maryland in ten minutes. He pulled on his jacket, and picking up Torres and Foster at the front desk, he headed out the door to who knows where.

Torres sincerely hoped this was the last time she ever had to ride in a car with both Loker and Foster driving. Foster had the wheel, but Loker was the worst backseat driver ever.

"Slow down! Turn Left! We're going the wrong way!" All came from the back of the car even though nothing he said actually contributed to getting them closer to Lightman. Finally, after about twenty minutes of his endless rambling and Foster's frustrated answers, Torres had turned the radio up so loud it was giving her a headache. Country was the only thing playing other than the chop shop report.

"Alright, Fisher says we need to get to Seventh Avenue in Sevierville and the next part will load shortly." Loker read from a text he had just gotten on his phone, resulting in a turn down of the highly obnoxious Travis Tritt song. "That's about five miles from here."

"Both of you watch for road signs, even though I'm pretty sure I've been here before." Foster took the next exit and sure enough, a sign reading "Sevierville: 5 Miles" came up in front of the car. The car was silent, only the hum of the tires was heard and it seemed like the only ones out today were Foster's car, and the squadron of officers coming up from behind them, following them on a manhunt.

Minutes passed until finally they came to a weathered sign announcing they had indeed arrived in Sevierville. Foster swallowed in nervousness as Loker got another text. "Apparently, it's the only house on Seventh Street."

"What?" Foster looked at street signs, and for anything that remotely resembled a seven.

"This says that there is only one house on Seventh Street, he should be there." Loker insisted form the backseat, holding up his blackberry so Torres could see the text.

"He's right, Foster." She confirmed, "Look over there. That says Seventh is on the south side of town, apparently past the McDonalds."

An old sign, one that looked as if it has predated the fifties swung in the breeze outside, telling of a an old plantation house on seventh street, the apparent residence of the original founder of Sevierville. Gillian swung the car towards a street that crisscrossed a gas station and mini-food mart. Torres thought the place reeked of small town, it was covered in little churches, there was one school they passed, and a four-screen movie theater. She might like it here, but she couldn't see herself doing anything but reading on the weekends.

It didn't seem like there was anyone hear though, the streets were bare, which made it seem like they were driving into one of those horror movies where the idiots hunt for the killer. Torres glanced at Foster and instantly got goose bumps.

Gillian's face was full of emotions. Anger, hate, and desperation stretched across her features, but most prominent was pain. This was killing her; Lightman being gone was killing her. Torres knew they had feelings for each other, hell, a blind cow would have known that, but she hadn't known how deep they ran until this moment. If she found the words, she still couldn't have known what to say, what do you say to a woman who's losing everything?

Even as the plantation house finally came into view, a dark shadow against a watery sun, she didn't have an answer.

(A/N) Yay, they arrived. Sorry this is a couple days late, this is my first chance to upload, expect more soon! Read and review, I love them! :D


	10. Fired

Marcus Clark parked his car in directly behind Dr. Foster's, on the far outskirts of the property, and all the other cars followed suit. He had had cases like this before, but hardly of this magnitude. Hostage situations were usually carried out by amateur criminals, not serial killers hell-bent on revenge, so they had to, as they say, proceed with caution.

Two seasoned officers climbed out of the car behind him, followed by a pair of rookies from the other, and Clark started to form a strategy in his mind. Obviously, the three members of the Lightman group couldn't go in first, they were the only ones unarmed, but he didn't necessarily just want to barge in anyway. They needed a certain degree of stealth, especially if there were two potentially armed and definitely dangerous criminals holding Dr. Lightman.

"Riley, get the two extra vests out of the car." One of the younger cops, who hadn't been on the force for more than a year, reached into the car for two bullet-proof vests. "Two of you, put those on and keep the third one behind you." He pointed at Torres, Loker, and Gillian. Gillian and Loker slipped on the vests, pulling Torres behind them like they were a shield.

"We're going to skirt around the perimeter, you three stay behind us. Wait before you shoot." Clark pulled his own gun out of his holster and started around the driveway, moving around what must have been a smokehouse at some point in its early life. "Riley, Calhoun, take the other side, you three stay with me."

* * *

Hutchinson knew they were coming. He saw them long before he knew they would realize he could see them from the attic window. If he had learned one thing, it was that cops had the ability to be highly obnoxious and incredibly stupid all at once. He held a .44 in his hands, fully loaded and ready to fire, while Daniel, who stood at the other window, was holding the long rifle.

He watched as they crossed the yard in what he assumed should have been a stealth maneuver, had it not been so blatantly visible. "I'll get Lightman and meet them outside." And with that, he headed down the stairs, wondering if maybe he should have just shot them before they had a chance to get to the house. But what fun was that?

* * *

Foster was glued to Loker's side at this point, neither one of them breathing regularly with anxiety and a certain level of dread. It was less than two minutes before they actually reached the house, Clark and the other two cops were moving at a steady rate across the property, their guns pulled out, ready to fire at first sight of Hutchinson.

Then, just as they moved to the last open patch leading to the house, Gillian saw them. "Wait!" She grabbed Loker and Clark, who was getting ready to sprint towards the house. He turned around to yell something at her, but she pushed him to look at the house. It was Hutchinson all right. And Cal.

With a gun pushed into his neck.

* * *

No one moved, even in his exhausted, half-conscious state, Cal knew that. He could see Foster, Loker, and Torres standing not a hundred yards from him, along with two cops and the head of the F.B.I. who name he couldn't remember. Cal was sure they weren't the only cops here, but he wasn't really concentrating on that right now. He was a little preoccupied with the gun on his neck.

"Do you agree to the terms?" Hutchinson yelled, his grip tightening around Cal's upper body, pulling at the cuts on his chest. "Give me a signed release form and you can have him!"

"I can't do that Andrew!" the F.B.I man answered, stepping forward a few yards, Foster, Loker, and Torres in close pursuit. "The state won't let you walk free, not after this, and you know it."

"Give them to me, or he dies." He pushed Lightman just far enough forward to emphasize his point, still having his gun pointed at his head and his arm holding him in place. Lightman looked up at his "rescuers" and immediately sought out Foster's gaze. But she wasn't looking at him; she was looking at the man who had refused Hutchinson's request with horror and shock on her face, obviously not understanding.

"Touch him and I'll shoot." The F.B.I. man raised his gun, and all of sudden his name came back to Cal. Marcus Clark, the bastard who got promoted because he sold out the old captain of the law enforcement division.

"Fair enough." Hutchinson took a step back towards the house, pulling Cal with him, using him as a shield in case Clark decided to pull the trigger. Cal's ribs screamed in protest as his captors arm dug into them, but he had no choice but to go with him. "Daniel!"

A single shot fired, followed by a horrible scream and a dull thud.

When Cal looked up, he saw the body of Marcus Clark laying on the ground, blood pouring out of the bullet wound in his head even though he was already dead, his pistol lying on the grass by his side.

"Now. Somebody get me my papers."

(A/N) Hope it was worth the wait, and i was excited to see how many people were reviewing. I love all of them, signed or annoymous, so just keep sending :)


	11. Battleground

It registered in Cal's brain that Hutchinson's gun had never gone off. He knew because it had never left his throat, where it was still pressed. He looked up at the group still huddled in the front yard, seeing that it was Torres who had screamed and was covering her hand with her mouth, staring at Markus's body. Foster and Loker hadn't moved anything but their eyes, Foster's focused on the body, but Loker's looking at Hutchinson.

"There's two of them!" He yelled, looking around for who Cal knew was upstairs, but he highly doubted he would make it through that sentence.

One of the cops who couldn't have been more than twenty pointed his gun at the window. "It's Keyes! He's got a rifle!"

* * *

Foster looked up and sure enough the face of Daniel Keyes, a man with no criminal record, stared back at her. He had a rifle, held slack in his hands, and he was crying and trying desperately not to show it. Gillian guessed that unlike his partner, this was his first murder, but just because it upset him didn't mean he wouldn't do it again.

"Dr. Foster!" Andrew's voice came from the doorway of the house. "You're certified. Fill out the paperwork, and hurry, I don't have time for this." He waved his gun at her for a brief second before pressing it against Cal. She looked at Cal, his green eyes looking back at her form fifteen feet away, full of shock, pain and exhaustion.

Going against every moral she had ever had, she slipped the papers form the inside pocket of her vest, starting to fill them out as a tear ran down her face and she whispered a prayer for Clark, who had died without cause.

* * *

Travis Anderson had never really been an important person. He had never done anything extraordinary, he had just lived. He joined the police academy because after graduation he had no career plan and he couldn't afford college. Becoming a cop was one of his only serious accomplishments, but now he was involved in something huge.

He was helping to save a man who was one of the top F.B.I. associates in the country, and he had a chance to do something good. He pointed his gun at Hutchinson, his six weeks of firearm training kicking in. He aimed for Hutchinson's hand actually, the one not holding the gun that was actually pressed against the wall. "Riley." He spoke softly, barely moving his lips.

"Aim for the guy in the window, I'll take out Hutchinson, at least for a minute. We'll rush in and get him and Lightman." He explained quickly. "One the count of the three."

Riley nudged the cop next to him and barely nodded towards the window, raising his gun up there in one fluid motion.

"One." He felt one bead of sweat run down his cheek, but he held the gun steady, knowing a misfire could be tragic.

"Two." He took one breath, filling his lungs.

"Three." Three guns fired, the bullet, and Travis ran for the door of the old house, jumping over Clark's body and not even bothering to wait on his bullet to hit its mark.

* * *

Hutchinson pulled Lightman in front of his to catch the bullet that idiot rookie had shot at him, leaning one hand on the wall, and aiming his gun with the hand that held Lightman by the chest. The cop had started to run towards him, and he would be an easy target. He pulled the hammer and aimed when the hand on the wall exploded in agony.

A scream ripped form his chest and he dropped the gun and his hostage and grabbed frantically at his left hand. He could hardly see for the pain, his eyes squeezing together and his mouth open in silent screams even as the feeling in his hand started to evaporate. But not nearly quick enough.

He was hardly even aware as a 150 pound body flattened him to concrete.

"Go into the house!" Riley yelled at his partner, and the other new member of the force. "Keyes goes with us."

At their first shots, Daniel Keyes had disappeared from the upstairs window, giving Travis the time he needed to take down Hutchinson after he expert shot to disable him. "Dr. Foster, call 9-1-1, tell them to send three ambulances."

And with that he rushed into the house.

* * *

The ambulances arrived fifteen minutes later to an interesting scene. One man, handcuffed, with one of his hands bleeding profusely was lying face down in the grass. Another man in handcuffs, the tears streaming down his face was leaned up against the house, two cops standing on either side of him and a broken rifle on the ground at his feet. A body, a blood stain around his head was lying on the grass not ten feet form the back off the open ambulance trunk. Three other people stood together, one a cop, one a man with very curly hair, and the other a Hispanic women, they all had their eyes wide in shock, and two who weren't cops were hugging. In a way that made them look like they were simply supporting each other standing up.

But most interesting was the woman and the man in the grass. His head was in her lap, she was stroking his face and hair and he was just looking up at her. He was soaked in blood, and his face had an ugly scar stretching across his left cheek. But he was smiling.

(A/N) New chapter! Hope you liked it! :D No this is not the end, there will be more! Read and review, yes, I know it's different from the other chapters.


	12. Healing

Gillian looked up from Cal, who head was in her, to see a police car follow in the two ambulances. She guessed that when three ambulances were called in, a police car comes regardless of whether or not they're needed. He saw Marcus Clark's body and took off his hat for a moment, saluting him for dying in service before he stepped over to talk to Riley and Anderson who were standing on either side of Daniel Keyes, who was handcuffed and leaning against the hall, tears streaking down his face.

The cop standing with Loker and Torres, who were yet to let go of each other, went over to the ambulances to direct him to who needed one. They loaded Hutchinson into the back of the first one form where he lay on the ground, his hand mangled and in handcuffs; the body of Marcus Clark into the second one; and finally they came for Cal. Even though Gillian was doing her best to keep him awake, for fear of a concussion, he was drifting in and out of consciousness. The paramedic picked him off the ground, and along with the other EMT, they loaded him into the ambulance.

"We can only take one passenger in the ambulance." He looked at all the healthy, living people still in the yard. "The rest of you can follow us; we're going to D.C. United Memorial."

"I'll go with Cal. Riley; you should probably go with Hutchinson, just in case he tries something, though I doubt it." She stepped into the back of the vehicle. "Torres, bring Loker and my car with you, I'll see you there."

The paramedics shut the door, and in a matter of seconds they siren flared to life and they rushed towards the largest hospital in the capitol.

* * *

Torres and Loker said nothing the entire trip. Loker had taken the wheel, although technically he didn't have permission, because Torres looked too stunned to walk by herself, let alone drive a car. He followed the train of ambulances carefully, even though he knew where D.C. United was; he wasn't sure if he should be behind the wheel either.

He glanced over at Torres, who was staring at space outside her window. She obviously knew he was looking at her. "So much went wrong."

"It could have been a lot worse, Torres." Neither one spoke for a minute, instead Loker took an exit heading back to D.C. At this speed, they were less than ten minutes from the hospital. "More people could have been hurt."

"A man died, Loker! He's dead." She leaned her head back on the seat. "We almost lost Lightman. We could have lost two cops. Two criminals will spend the rest of their lives in jail, one of them will probably lose his hand, and the other is an emotional wreck. I think everyone was hurt plenty."

"We can't change what happened. We just have to focus on what we can do now." The crammed streets of the city seemed to be frozen as people pulled over to let the ambulances pass, Loker following in close pursuit. "We need to call the office and tell Reynolds to bring Emily."

Saying nothing, Torres pulled out her phone and dialed the number.

* * *

Gillian sat in the waiting room with Emily, Reynolds, Loker, and Torres. A few minutes and they would be allowed in to see him. Surgery to fix all the wounds on his chest had apparently gone well and they had been able to use extensive amounts of bandages and heavy antibiotics to heal him, so they didn't have to do anything invasive. He would just be very sore when the sedatives wore off, especially his head. Not a concussion, only a bruise and a large gash marred his head. The doctors were glad for that and certain of his recovery. He wouldn't even have to stay overnight.

Hutchinson; however, was a different story. The bullet had completely destroyed his hand, but they hadn't amputated. He would keep it, but would only recover a small amount of mobility. Not that it mattered, as soon as he was well enough to leave; he was going to the D.C. Penitentiary. Keyes was already there, awaiting a trial and then sentencing.

"One at a time, please. Dr. Lightman is still fragile." A doctor who seriously resembled the man in the cheer commercials came over to the group. "Five minutes apiece."

"You should go, Emily." Foster said, smiling at Cal's daughter as she got up and practically ran down the hall.

* * *

"Dad?" Emily pushed open the door, careful not to it slam shut. She looked over at him and froze. His shirt was gone, and almost entire torso was covered in thick white bandages, a couple of which were red in the center. And he had what looked like a strip of medical tape up the left side of his face. He flicked his eyes open when she came in and smiled a little at her, even though she could tell he was heavily laden on painkillers.

"Hello, Em." He said hoarsely. "What have you been up to?"

"Finding you." She sat next to him, not really talking to him, but talking just enough to keep him awake.

And she stayed that way until the doctor came and ushered her out, tears of joy threatening to bubble up in her eyes.

(A/N) Not over, I promise. What kind of author would I be if I didn't play on the Cal/Gillian thing at the end of this story, plus I'm thinking of posting a challenge for the conclusion of this story. Be prepared. Read and review.


	13. Building

Gillian pulled her car into the Lightman driveway, shutting off the engine and staring at the house. Cal was the only one home; it was his first day out of the hospital, the day after they had saved him from Sevierville. She had promised to bring him food, so a bag of sub sandwiches and a box of French fries were in the bag next to her, probably leaking grease onto the seat, but since Cal' only dietary restriction was excessive red meat, she knew he would love having the fries, even though he would never admit it.

She tucked her keys into her purse and climbed out of the car, pulling the bag of food with her. She knocked on the door and waited. And waited. And waited. "Cal! Open the door, it's Gillian!"

A loud thumping came from the house, followed by the turning of the key. "Sorry, love. Didn't hear you 'till you screamed." He smiled a little, showing four of his teeth like he usually did, making this seem almost normal, but Gillian could see that he was sweating a little, and his voice was strained.

She stepped in the door and shut in behind her, watching as he headed into the kitchen, where she noticed that he was wearing a loose fitting button-up instead of his usual black shirt and that worried her a little. "Are you in pain, Cal?" His lack of a response made her certain that was a yes. "Why aren't you taking your medication? They gave you pain pills."

"Don't want to get addicted to them, love. Those are dangerous." He swung open the door of the fridge. "I've got soda and beer."

"Soda. Diet if you've got it." She sat at the table and pulled out the sandwiches. Ham, turkey, cheese, pickled and mustard for Cal, Tuna and peppers for her. "What did you do with your pills?"

"Flushed 'em. Don't want the bloody things anywhere near me, I'll make do with Tylenol." He sat across from her, giving her an icy Diet Pepsi and grabbing at the French fries, completely ignoring his sandwich. She laughed and rolled her eyes before taking a bite of tuna.

* * *

Gillian was clearing away all the paper form lunch, not that it was that difficult. Two wrappers, two cans, and a French fry box weren't exactly hard to get rid of.

"Oi, Gill, I need your help for just a minute, alright?" He came back into the kitchen, unbuttoning his shirt. "I can't get these off by myself, and I've got to change them."

She stared at his stomach and chest, his thick white bandages starting to fray from age, although it didn't look like they were bleeding through them. "Okay, where the package of them the doctor gave you?"

"Upstairs, come on, we'll just change them up there if you don't mind." He turned around and laid the shirt of the back of his couch before starting up the stairs. She followed slowly, trying not to stare at his back as they moved up the stairs.

By the time she got up to his room, he had the package of them sitting on the bed and was trying to peel them off, but was gritting his teeth against the action, his muscles tightening in pain. "Would you mind? I can't bring myself to just jerk them off."

He looked up at her, smiling a little, but grimacing too. She grabbed the corner of the one she was working on. "Hold still." She jerked it all the way off.

* * *

"I think you damn near killed me, love." Cal attached the last bandage to his chest, "Thank you though, don't think I could have done that by myself." He stood up and headed to the closet. "It's good to be home, ya' know? Although, Emily bought near drove me nuts last night. She wouldn't leave me alone, afraid someone else would show up. I had to sleep on the couch because she wouldn't let me be in here by myself."

He stuck his head out of the closet and grinned, but seeing Gillian's face, he stopped. He pulled the shirt over his shoulders, but didn't bother to button it, and instead moved to sit next to her on the bed.

"You could have died, Cal." She whispered, not looking at him. "We all thought he would kill you. It was… horrible!

"I'm here, love. I'm all right now, that'll never happen again." She didn't look at him, so he put his hand on the far side of his face. "I'm alright. I'm not leaving."

She didn't move, and he could tell she was crying. "Gill, love, look at me."

She turned a little obviously trying to gain a little bit of composure before she turned all the way around to face him. He just looked at her face for a minute, before he brought up his other hand, brushing away the one tear that had managed to escape the corner of her eye.

The he kissed her.

(A/N) Now the challenge starts. This is obviously not the end, and I'm leaving it up to you to write the conclusion, so it can hand how you individually think it should. I'll put more info up, it will be a new chapter titled challenge. Expect that this weekend. Read and review as always.


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